


Rendezvous en France

by havisham



Series: havisham's SASO 2017 works collection [21]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Backstory, Hook-Up, M/M, Rivals to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 01:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11220762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: Some years ago, Georgi Popovich was locked out of his hotel in the middle of the night. Luckily (?), he was not locked out by himself.





	Rendezvous en France

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SASO 2017 for Bonus Round 2: Tic-Tac-Toe, for the [ Christophe Giacometti/Georgi Popovich, Rendezvous en France.](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22249.html?thread=11982825#cmt11982825)

It was a coincidence that they returned to the hotel from the club at the same time. Georgi certainly hadn’t intended to let Giacometti spend an extended period of time with him, but it couldn’t be helped. The doors were locked and the night attendant didn’t come no matter how many times he rang the bell. It was his fault for agreeing to stay at a smaller hotel rather than the big, international ones closer to the venue, but Natasha was staying there with the rest of the Russian team, Natasha and her new boyfriend, with whom she was extravagantly, annoying in love with. 

Georgi didn’t need to see that. 

He didn’t know why Giacometti was here, though. Not hiding out from a broken heart, surely. Maybe he was just cheap? 

Giacometti caught his eye and shrugged. “I have a cousin who lives close by. If we’re quiet, she’ll let us stay. Will you come?” 

“My bags are up there,” Georgi huffed. 

“You’ll still look pretty in the morning,” Giacometti said with a wink. 

How stupid. No wonder Victor liked him so much. 

*

‘Close’ was only a relative term, it turned out. Giacometti led him through twisted and turning streets, veering off this way and that, squinting at the dim light of his flip phone. Georgi walked behind him and watched the shadows suspiciously. Sometimes he’d see a face looking back at him, but then it would disappear, uninterested. 

“If we get attacked, I’m leaving you behind for dead,” Georgi said to Giacometti’s back.

“Fair enough. We’re here.” 

His cousin’s place was a long, narrow apartment building with no elevators to speak of. The cousin lived on the top floor because of course she did. Georgi prided himself on his athletic ability and endurance, but it had been a long, long day. By the time he’d reached the top of the stairs, he was exhausted, leaning against Giacometti’s back for support. 

Giacometti rooted around his pocket until he got out a key and opened the door. Inside, the apartment was clean and plainly, boringly furnished. It seemed like it was empty. 

“Ah, she must not be in,” Giacometti said. “But still, there should be some food in the fridge. Are you hungry?” 

“No,” Georgi said, just as his stomach groaned loudly. 

*

The food he didn’t remember, but then Giacometti brought out the wine. “Why do you call me Giacometti? All my friends call me Chris. Christophe is all right, if you want to be formal.” 

“We’re not friends,” Georgi said, pointing to his empty glass. “We’re competitors, rivals. Really, I’m respecting you when I don’t call you Chris.” 

“I don’t really think of you as a rival though. And I really prefer Chris,” Chris said, watching him with those big green eyes that were too much like Natasha’s. Georgi felt his heart crumble in his chest. Natasha! Why had she left him? Why had she turned away from him? He thought she really had been the one… 

Then Chris’ words penetrated into his skull. “Oh. You think of Victor as your rival, don’t you? Not me. Fuck you.” 

“You act like I don’t understand you,” Chris said with an expansive shrug. “Lambiel’s a genius too, you know, and won’t retire anytime soon. We all want our moment in the sun.” 

Georgi had never had his moment in the sun. That was his fate, coming up at the same time as Victor, who the whole world loved. Georgi couldn’t even keep the love of a single, solitary girl. Suddenly, tears welled up in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. 

Alcohol always made him emotional, and he had been drinking at the club earlier too. 

Chris, mistaking Georgi’s tears for a bout of professional frustration, drew closer to him and threw an arm around Georgi’s shoulders. He made comforting, nonsensical noises that Georgi chose to ignore. 

“Let me distract you. Do you want to fuck?” Chris murmured in his ear. 

“Wha--” Georgi swallowed hard. He felt wretched, of course, and sad and awful. But also pretty horny. “... Fine.” 

*

The next morning, they went back to the hotel. Georgi didn’t see Chris again until a year later, in Switzerland. He was spotted before he could avoid him -- Chris waved to him and said, cheerfully, “Hey, Popovich! You owe me, don’t you?” 

(He did.)

**Author's Note:**

> I have actually have a lot of feelings about Chris and Georgi's points of similarity, namely being overshadowed by their more successful countrymen. Chris doesn't seem to hold much resentment against Lambiel, but Georgi... Well, I wouldn't say there's no resentment, lol.


End file.
